THE NECKLACE FANTASIES OF AUTUMN

Silver stars of star dust and reddish rays brought by the wind,
woven like a precious canvas from the crown of the sun...silver stars ,they caress the twigs.

Over the Earth,delayed Autumn,
has placed her brown veil with white frost,embroidery of elves...fresh-in the air,kept-waves,
like deep in the woods-the paths,fluffy,barely-glimpsed,
a maze ray-gray,dense,misunderstood.

I wasted in the fragrant air,
like a tree his perfume branches,
wasted my thoughts,
seeking for the path that as a child,I hid it in a story...

Silver pearls beads ,scattered in a box for toys,
silver pearls scented,like the feeling remained in my heart.

Caught like a bead in a necklace fantasies of Autumn,
put my forehead near the first tree branches met on the road and wait,
as in a prayer,
beautiful words to caress my heart.

A FAN OF COLORS IN SUNLIGHT OF THE MORNING

A fan of colors in sunlight of the morning,...a fan of colors,
impressive as a fresh greeting sent from the heavens on Earth.

A rainbow of colors especially in the morning,...light.
Has crept through a curtain,made his way  close to my heart.

Cross my breath and open my eyes,
in heart is coming the sky...and pray.

As a mystery that has left,a pearly veil,
sweet memories,like pearls,
as walnuts broken in the porch.

Nuts,with white and fragrant core,
nuts,hidden into fists,
sweet nuts,fragrant as veils Autumn left on the fields,...bitter-memories.

Ripe nuts,beaten with the wood,...nuts,
which fell through the grass,...nuts.

At it seems that Autumn was hiding in my heart,
looking for his way back home,
and it seems that memories collected in the summer,
have passed like a tear,
closed in my heart,...a myrrh.

Fresh morning,wonderful rainbow,
a fan of colors set with tenderness in my heart...

It snowing.
white frost of silver stars stopped in my palm...a kiss,
the first snowflakes of snow...veil -of rainbow.

IT IS THE LEAF

It is the leaf,as a clam printed in the ruby...in my palm,
as the sun in twilight,a rainbow hidden stars.

It is the leaf,as a heart that still beats...vibrating silently with the wind-the thought,nearer the earth.

It is the leaf,as a mystery hidden among rocks...whispering with moss,colorful words.

It is the leaf a gentle prayer...frosting silver pearls-beautiful words.

Hidden among the grass,as a shinning shadow...it is the leaf,
embrace in the morning light...the trust.

In the night,she split off,as a beetle,from a budding thread of bluish rose...buds,
like the sky in twilight,shy,sweet as a kiss.

It is the leaf,as the good...the spring whispered her yearning...hear heart,the spring.

It is the leaf,like a ruby diamond-heart,enriching the cloak of roses.

In my palm,as the sun in twilight,a rainbow hidden stars.

CA NECTARUL-LIKE NECTAR

• Stand in asteptare,ca trandafirii si dovlecii,pere frumoase,tamaioase,adunu-n miezul lor,statornicia Anotimpurilor.In Vale,Roata Olarului se-nvarte-ncet.Din pietricelele de la Izvor,macina usor seminte transparente,bune pentru plamadeala.Apoi pune cate-un strop de apa,inmiresmata de aerul proaspat al diminetii.Apa pe piatra si piatra pe apa,asa se face Urciorul.Chiar si muntii cei carunti cu Cerbul,s-au invrednicit de Roata Olarului.Sa se statorniceasca langa matca Izvorului,oricat de instrainati ar fi.Sa asculte Vanturile,sa primeneasca picaturile de roua care se aseaza tacute pe tulpina ferigilor,care ascund,ca o taina, necunoscutele comori ale Padurii..Seceratorii fluiera in munti,de la un capat la altul al Pamantului,in diminetile in care nici macar zborul sagetat al vrabiilor nu se face auzit.Doar saltul lacustelor printre firele de iarba mai amintesc de trecerea lor.Asez Urciorul langa buturuga.Facut de mana Olarului ca sa adaposteasca Harta cu drumurile si placuta argintata cu Legile,va fi ascuns de piatra stancilor,in tropotul cadentat al Cerbului,pana la chemarea Izvorului.Ca o para tamaioasa ascunsa tainic de cupola catedralei in sunetul transparent al clopotelor,asa s-a desavarsit si Urciorul Olarului.Gustul acesta este atat de placut ca nectarul florilor de pe camp,amintind parca trecerea clipelor,atunci cand Timpul isi aseaza haina alaturi de rugul cu trandafiri,ca sa se odihneasca.
• Stand waiting as roses and pumpinks,pears beautiful muscadine,gathered in their core steadfastness Seasons.In Valley.the potter's wheel-spinning slowly.From gravel to the spring,transparent dust grains easily grind good dough.Then put each one drop of water,fresh fragrant air of the morning.Water on stone and stone water,pitcher is so.Even those gray mountains with deer,were worthy of the potter's wheel.To settle near Spring stock no matter how estranged they are.To listen to the winds,to renew the dew drops that sits silent on stem ferns,that will hide as a mystery the unknown treasures of the forest..Reapers whistle in the mountains from one end to another of the Earth,in the mornings even sparrows flight is not heard.Just jump through the blades of grass locusts now remember their passing.Pitcher sit near stump.Potter's hand made to shelter the road map and silver plate laws,will be hidden by stone rocks in rhythm clatter of deer,up to call Spring.As a muscadine pear,hidden in mysterious dome of the cathedral bells sound transparent,so it was perfect,Potter Pitcher.That taste is so nice as the nectar of flowers of the field,reminding passing moments like when Time sits with rose bush to rest.

CA PERLELE DIN ADANCUL OCEANULUI-AS PEARLS FROM THE DEPTH OF OCEAN

• M-am aplecat peste marginea Curcubeului.Ganduri,amintiri,sentimente,invalmasite si inghesuite se rostogolesc din Cer,ca stropi de roua argintii.In zbor rotit alunecand in jos,se repezesc pripite si rusinate ca n-au reusit sa puna in traistuta nici o firimitura din menire.Norii acopera campia,impodobita cu lanuri aurii de grau.In adierea vantului,spice jucause ca niste carabusi,isi spun povestea de iubire.Cu sunet matasos de tamburina se prind in dansul Ielelor frumoaselor,asteptand Seceratorii.La marginea drumului,fire de iarba ca soldatei,cu varfurile pe jumatate arse-n vant ca sabii se vor refugia tacute intr-o noapte stelara, cealalta jumatate verde pastrand-o cu radacina la Izvor.Prind in palme puful intarziat al papadiilor ca si cum as deschide un Oracol.Dincolo de geana Cerului,inca mai sunt prunci care trebuie sa poarte pe umerii lor atatea amintiri cate n-au reusit parintii lor sa duca.Tacuti si cu ochii umezi,ca perlele din adancul oceanelor,isi asteapta parintii,sa le prinda mainile si sa le arate Lumea ca o Imparatie, Anotimpurile ca Tablouri pe un perete imaginar si Harta pe care sunt insemnate Drumurile.Ielele frumoasele au trecut de Poarta Zorilor.Asezandu-se printre buruienile cu samanta inflorita,tes din fire argintii de praf stelar o minunata panza de paianjen.Bucuroase ca au gasit placuta,prind in tesatura stropii argintii de roua de la marginea Curcubeului.Ca niste mori de vant,buruienile acopera placuta pana la topirea pinzelor.Fiara insetata,da tarcoale ca sa citeasca Drumurile.Asezata de Seceratori deasupra Hartei ,placuta va lumina din Intuneric cu fascicule de lumina argintii, imaginea perlata a Anotimpurilor.
• I leaned over the edge of the Rainbow.Thoughts,memories,feelings,clutter and cramped roll from heaven like dew drops of silver.In glinding flight turned down rushed,hasty and ashamed that they have managed to put in bag any crumb of purpose.The clouds cover the plain adorned with with golden wheat fields.In the breeze,ears playfull like blinds,they tell the story of love.Silky sound of tambourine,cling in the dance of Beautiful Elves,waiting for the Reapers.On the road,blades of grass as soldiers,with peaks of half-burned-in wind as swords will silently refuge in a stellar night keeping the other half green with a root in spring.Catch in my hands,fluff delayed of dandelions like I open an oracle.Beyond eyelash Heaven,are still babies have to wear on their shoulders every so memories of their parents did not have to go.Quietly and the moist eyes as pearls from the dephts of the oceans await parents,their little hands to catch them and show them the world as like a kingdom,Seasons like pictures on a imaginary wall and Maps of roads that are significant.Beautiful Elves Down passed Gate.Sitting among flowering weeds with seed,silver threads woven in a beautiful star dust swirls.Gladly to have found the plate catch in texture silver drew drops from edge of the rainbow.Like windmills,weeds cover plate to melt webs.Thirsty Beast roaring to read roads.Located by the Reapers over Maps,the Plate will light the dark beams of light silver pearl pictureSeasons.

CERCEI LA BUZA CRENGILOR-EARRINGS,THE LIP BRANCHES

• Mladitele galbene de marar au umplut gradinile.Palarii cu borul larg si miros de farmacii,si-au pus semnul trecerii peste Pamant.Cirese somnoroase,margelate si parfumate,ca Mataniile,s-au prins ca cercei,de buza crengilor.In umbra frunzelor,visine timide privesc printre gene,parca n-ar mai vrea sa fie culese.Doua cruci,ca doua unghiuri:dulce-aromat si acrisor-insangerat,s-au pus de straja la cumpana fantanii.Una spre Est,foarte aproape de Pamant,iar alta spre Vest,foarte departe,aproape de Cer.Din cel mai sigur punct al Fantanii,in ciripit de vrabiute,umbra celor doua cruci,s-a ridicat incet,ca un voal catifelat,ascunzandu-se in taina norilor albi.Se contopesc in crucifix,ca o ancora fixata puternic in Prezent.De atunci,de cand cu impartirea painilor,din aproape in aproape,ascunsi sub pervazul Cerului,intram in Natura,ca printr-o usa.Atat de aproape si celest,incat,atingand cu palmele,o frunza cazuta,ca un zbor obosit,ai putea simti cum pulseaza,cu efervescenta inversunata,Abisul.Ca o chemare,ca o atingere,ca o incatusare mult asteptata,pe care nicicand nu o vei uita,pentru ca gustul amar si dulce al fructelor,te imbie in fiecare dimineata,ascuns in umbra minunat de tandra a iubirii.
• Yellow sprouts of dill filled gardens.Hats with wide brim and smell pharmacies have made Earth crossing sign.Cherries,sleepy,seed beads,such as scented rosary were caught earrings the lip branches.In shadow leaves,sour cherries shy,look among genes,like it would not like to be picked.Two crosses,that two angels:sweet-flavored and sour-bloody,have put for watch on sweep fountain.One towards the East,close to the Earth,and one to the West,far away,close to heaven.From the Fountain safest point,in chirping of sparrows,the shadow of the two crosses,rose slowly,like a soft veil,hiding in mystery white clouds.Merge the cross,as an anchor,firmly fixed in the present.Since then,when the division bread,step by step,hidden under the sill of Heaven,get into nature,as through a door.So close and celestial,that, with palms touching a fallen leaf,like a tired fly,you could feel the pulsing,effervescent with bitter,the abyss.As a calling,as a touch,as a fetter,more expected that you will not never forget that the taste bitter and sweet of fruits,invites you every morning,hidden in the shadow wonderfully tender love.

CEARTA DIN FANTANA-STRIFE IN WELL

• Rasturnate peste Roata de Foc a Fantanii,Ielele frumoasele s-au pus pe ales apa de apa,undele de curgerea lor,curentul de bulboana-Spatiul deschis de Spatiul inchis,deschiderea spre lume de chemarea in Adancuri.Fiara are cunostinta de cei care murdaresc Pamantul si cauta printre radacinile copacilor,gustul amar al Nostalgiei.Noapte de noapte urca din Adanc in sus spre Cer,cete de licurici.Undeva,pe fundul Fantanii,spre curgerea Izvorului,zace insingurata o placuta argintie.Este foarte important ca Ielele frumoasele sa gaseasca placuta.Aici a cazut un trup ca pietrele de la picioarele prostituatei.Sub acest Nuc si-a pus Soldatul mana la piept.Rusinat de tacerea pietrelor si-a scuturat tunica de faramiturile de paine si s-a calugarit.Plecase spre Apus sa prinda o raza de soare,sa si-o puna-n piept in locul placutei de argint.Vrand sa-si astampere setea,si-a scapat placuta in Fantana ,apoi a adormit.Prind in palme puful papadiilor,adus in taina de adierea vantului caldut.La buza Fantanii stele coboara lin ca licurici,picurand usor.Cu umbra asezata dincolo de pleoapa Cerului,tufe de crini solitari,ca toiegele mosnegilor asculta zvonul vantului:"Sa nu ucizi-Sa nu-ti faci chip cioplit."Cuvinte schiopatand ranite,pierdute-acum si rastignite pe care-n jocul lor,Ielele frumoasele le-au gasit cand s-au certat.Ridic tacuta ciobul unui urcior spart si uitat.In zbor tremurat,licurici picati din Cer langa Fantana alina durerea pietrei.Astept.Ghemuita intr-un Cerc Boltit adanc in Trei Unghiuri ca de Foc,ascunsa in Abis printre tenebre,placuta argintata este impinsa-n sus printr-o misterioasa hipnoza.Srijinita fiind de cele doua unghiuri aduna ca-ntr-un Clopot,inlauntrul ei,toata puterea Lumii.Intre Cer si Pamant,Ielele frumoasele inconjoara,infioara,invartesc si scutura Fantana,tufele de crini,Samanta,placuta si faramiturile de paine intr-un vartej nebun.Zarurile au fost aruncate in cioburi pe Pamant:gasindu-le,parintilor dandu-le,sa faca Urciorul si sa-i astampere Dorul.Inlauntrul Triunghiului pana la rasaritul Soarelui,clopote bat usor.Cerbi chemati de ape asculta-n tacere ecoul Nostalgiei frangand sub copite primele frunze de Nuc cazute la buza Fantanii.
• Overturned above Weel of Fire Fountain,Beautiful Elves distinguish in particular,water of water,waves of their flow,wirlpool stream,opend space and closed space, to the world by calling into the dephts. Beast knows of those dirthy earth and seek among the roots of trees,the bitter taste of Nostalgia.Nightly climb from the dephts up to heaven groups of fireflies.Somewhere at the bottom of the well to flow source,lies a lone silver plate.It is very important for Beautiful Elves to find the plate.Here feel a body,as stones at the feet of the prostitute.Under the Walnut soldier put his hand to his chest.Ashamed of silence shook stones bread crumbs pilgrims and monks.Gone to the West to catch a ray of sun,and a put-in chest instead of silver plate.Wanting to quench thirst in the well plate and then dropped asleep.Fluff hands come in dandelions,smuggled the warm breeze.The fountain lip,stars down smoothly,as fireflies,dripping slightly.The shadow across the eyelid Heaven seated,solitary bushes lilies as grandfathers rods,hear rumors wind:"Do not kill"-"Do not make your idol".Limp words hurt,lost and crucified,whom did their game rumored,Beautiful Elves they found when they quarreled.Quietly pick up brokenshard of a pitcher once and forgotten.In flight trembling,dropped from heaven fireflies beside stone fountain mend hurt.Wait.Crouched in a circle  vaulted three angles of fir, hidden among the darkness Abyss,silver plate is pushed upwards by a mysterious hypnosis.Being resting by two angles,gather as a bell within it,all the power of the world.Between Heaven and Earth,Beautiful Elves surrounds,shudder,shake and spin well,bushes lilies,seed,plate and crumbs of bread in a crazy whirlwind.The dice have been thrown in shards on Earth;finding them,parents give them,to make pitcher,and quench his desire.Inside the triangle,until sunrise,bells beat easily.Called waters deers hear the echo of nostalgia in silence,breaking the first walnut leaves under hooves feel at Fountain lip.